


Dirty Limericks (and Other Ways of Expressing Your Undying Love)

by Caedmon



Series: An Ineffable Valentines [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dirty Limericks, Fluff, Humor, M/M, shitty poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22544173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: ”There are things you don’t know about me.”Aziraphale lowered the book and gave him a disbelieving look. “After six thousand years of being friends and nearly a year of being your lover, I daresay I know everything about you.”“Not everything. For instance, I bet you had no idea I was a poet, myself.”The angel pursed his lips. “Really, dear. You don’t even like to read!”“Doesn’t mean I can’t write poetry. Shall I prove it?”Crowley proves he has hidden talents.For the Valentine’s prompt: poetry
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: An Ineffable Valentines [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619491
Comments: 35
Kudos: 162
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Dirty Limericks (and Other Ways of Expressing Your Undying Love)

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks go out to the crew of the Good Omens NSFW Party Room, who helped me brainstorm limericks. (Particularly Miele_Petite, who wrote two all on her own.) 
> 
> The shitty poem is all me, unfortunately.

It was a rainy afternoon, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. He liked rainy afternoons. People were less likely to be inclined to browse old bookshops on days like this, and he was typically able to enjoy the quiet in his back room with a mug of cocoa and a good book, listening to the gentle white noise of the rain pattering against the building. It was peaceful, and Aziraphale was rather hoping it would rain for several more hours. At least until it was time for him to go out with Crowley this evening.

There was a tinkle of bells at the front of the shop, and Aziraphale called out, “I’m afraid we’re really quite closed!”

“It’s me, angel,” Crowley’s voice answered, and Aziraphale smiled. 

Within a few moments, Crowley appeared at the door to the back room. Aziraphale felt himself light up at the sight of his beloved, and greeted him with a “Hello, dear.”

“Hullo,” Crowley answered, crossing the back room to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s waiting lips. That done, he took his usual place, sprawling across the couch. 

“You’re here early,” Aziraphale remarked. “I wasn’t expecting you for a couple of hours.”

Crowley shrugged. “I was just at home, killing time on my phone until I came to see you, and decided I’d rather kill time in the same room as you, until you’re ready to leave. Is that alright?”

“Of course it is, and I love you, too.” Crowley smiled, and Aziraphale smiled back. “You’re welcome here anytime, I’ve told you that. In fact, if you’ll recall, I’ve invited you to move in on more than one occasion.”

Crowley crossed his long legs and withdrew his phone from his pocket. “And my answer is still the same: if I can ever convince myself that I wouldn’t drive you mad, being underfoot all the time, I’ll do it.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually,” Aziraphale predicted. 

The demon gave a lopsided smile. “I daresay you will. Just give me some time to wrap my head around it, angel.”

“Hmm. Very well. So long as you know I love you.”

“I do know.”

“Good to hear. Can I get you anything? Perhaps a drink?”

“I’m fine, angel. Go back to your book and pretend I’m not here. I just wanted to be close to you, not interrupt your day. I know how you love rainy afternoons.”

Aziraphale felt himself almost glow with love. His beloved knew him so well. He smiled at him for a moment more, then turned his attention back to his book. It didn’t take long before he was drawn back into it, cocooned in the cozy feeling of being in his favorite place with his favorite person. The sounds of the pattering rain were only broken occasionally by Crowley tapping on his mobile screen. The angel had rarely ever been so content, he thought as he turned another page. Life really was perfect.

The silence was broken a couple of hours later when Crowley lay his mobile down beside himself and stretched, raising his arms above his head and arching his back with a groan. His shirt raised with the motion to show a tantalizing strip of skin on his belly and Aziraphale eyed it appreciatively but covertly. 

Apparently, he wasn’t covert enough because Crowley smirked at him. “See something you like, angel?”

Aziraphale pretended to still be engrossed in his book, licking a finger and turning a page. “I’m very much enjoying my book, yes,” he deflected, almost certain he wouldn’t be fooling his beloved. 

He hadn’t. Crowley’s smirk grew and he leaned back, crossing his legs, looking self-satisfied. “Whatcha reading?”

“A tome of poetry.”

“Oh? Anything good?”

“I find it delightful, but I doubt you would.”

“You may be surprised. There are things you don’t know about me.”

Aziraphale lowered the book and gave him a disbelieving look. “After six thousand years of being friends and nearly a year of being your lover, I daresay I know everything about you.”

“Not everything. For instance, I bet you had no idea I was a poet, myself.”

The angel pursed his lips. “Really, dear. You don’t even like to read!”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t write poetry. Shall I prove it?”

Aziraphale closed his book, marking his page with a finger. “Go on, then. Show me your skills as a poet.”

Crowley grinned brightly, and Azriaphale felt his heart flutter in his chest in spite of himself. Oh, he loved the demon so much…

Then Crowley opened his mouth and began to speak. 

_”There once was an angel from Eden_  
_Who was ever so fond of his readin’_  
_Though words he could parse_  
_‘Twas a bit of an arse_  
_‘Til he got the good shag he was needin’.”_

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, his face torn between being shocked and terribly amused, resulting in a disbelieving, open-mouthed grin.

“What?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Demon, remember?”

Aziraphale sniffed, trying very hard to pretend like he wasn’t amused. Crowley wasn’t fooled. 

“I’ve got another one. Do you want to hear?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Crowley just grinned and said,

_”There once was an angel named Fell_  
_Who loved a hot demon from hell._  
_They took their clothes off_  
_and proceeded to boff_  
_and the whole thing turned out rather well.”_

“Well, I never,” Aziraphale huffed, pretending to be scandalized. 

Crowley apparently wasn’t finished. 

_"A demon for an angel did pine_  
_He’d thirst while Aziraphale dined_  
_’Til Armageddon went bust_  
_Now with every last thrust_  
_Crowley says, ‘Angel, you’re mine!’”_

“Really dear,” Aziraphale scolded, losing the battle against his giggles. 

“What? I thought that one was romantic!”

“You and I have a very different view of romance.”

“Alright, how about this one?

_”There was a bookseller named Fell_  
_Whose handsome companion from hell_  
_Could tempt with the best_  
_And might I suggest_  
_Had quite a nice body as well.”_

Aziraphale rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Do you disagree?” Crowley challenged, his brow raised and eyes twinkling.

“I don’t suppose I can, really,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I will say that while your… _poems_ are very entertaining, I don’t think they’re quite up to scratch.”

“No?”

“No, dirty limericks don’t appeal to me, I’m afraid,” he lied. “But I’m glad to know you have this latent talent.” 

Crowley gave him an assessing look. “So you don’t like dirty limericks, eh?”

“No, I’m afraid they’re not my favorite.”

“Well, what about more traditional poetry?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrow in answer. “You know any traditional poems?”

“I’ve written a couple that were a little more traditional, yeah.”

“Are they dirty?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Crowley retorted, his eyes twinkling.

Aziraphale sighed. “Oh, alright. Recite your traditional poem to me.”

Crowley’s face has a flash of something like vulnerability, but he opened his mouth and began to speak.

“ _My heart is not my own_  
_nor has it been for thousands of years, since the beginning of time._  
_Blackened though it may be_  
_it belongs to an angel, the purest of God’s creations._  
_The most beautiful and exemplary,_  
_he owns my soul, no longer damned, but blessed beyond measure_  
_simply because of his love._  
_I’ll never be enough for him,_  
_I’ll never be worthy._  
_But I’ll live the next six thousand years solely for him -_  
_to please him, to praise him,_  
_to worship and adore him,_  
_my angel, my light, my life -_  
_my love.”_

Aziraphale sat stunned, his jaw slack and his eyes filling with tears. Crowley was usually so guarded with his emotions, typically reserving his words and expressing his love through actions. But _this_... Aziraphale was speechless and two fat tears spilled onto his cheeks. 

“Crowley,” he breathed, still in awe. “That was… that was…”

“It was true, angel,” Crowley said gently. “It was the truth of my heart. I love you.”

Aziraphale swiped at his cheeks. “I love you too. So much.”

Crowley grinned almost sheepishly for a moment, then slapped his legs with both hands. “Right. That’s enough of that. Are you ready to go? Our reservation is in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale agreed, sitting the book to the side and getting to his feet. Crowley did the same and he couldn’t help it, he stepped forward to wrap his arms around Crowley’s waist, laying his head on his shoulder. “Thank you, my love.”

He felt a press of lips against the top of his head. “You’re welcome. Surprised to learn something new about me?”

Aziraphale laughed and turned his face up to Crowley’s. I”ll never doubt your power to surprise again.”

Crowley dipped his head and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Aziraphale’s mouth. “Good. See that you don’t. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, quite.”

The demon took his hand and laced their fingers. “Let’s go, then.”


End file.
